The Fall and Rise of Nellie Lovett
by PrincessDaydream77
Summary: Nellie is badly hurt outside the barber's shop and Sweeney and Toby have to take care of her. Eventually blossoming Sweenett. Dedicated to littlezion, who gave me the idea with their story 'Times Forgotten'.
1. Fallen Dreams

The Fall and Rise of Nellie Lovett

Summary : Nellie is badly hurt outside the barber's shop and Sweeney and Toby have to take care of her. Eventually blossoming Sweenett. Dedicated to littlezion, who gave me the idea with their story 'Times Forgotten'.

Disclaimer : I do not own Sweeney Todd : The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, it belongs to Tim Burton and Stephen Sondheime.

Chapter One

"GET OUT!" screamed the demon barber, causing Nellie Lovett to flee the room, closing the door with a final glance behind her. She leaned back on the wall, occasionally casting a glance through the pane of glass that seperated her from the love of her life, a man who had just threatened her with a razor blade. She started to feel a little faint, so she leaned onto the banister of the chipped stone staircase that seperated Sweeney Todd's barber shop from the filthy straw-covered Fleet Street. Her head was still spinning from the confrontation she had had with her tenant, which had contained the fact that they all deserved to die, even her.

She suddenly heard the clang of metal hitting wood, which caused her to turn in horror, backing away from the door, only to realised briefly that there was nothing beneath her feet. She barely had time to scream before she went tumbling headfirst down the flight of stairs, landing in a crumpled heap in the mud at the foot of them.

Sweeney Todd was staring at the silver razor blade which was stuck in the wooden frame of his shop door, reflecting a glint of moonlight through the darkness of the room. The silence was piercing after Mrs. Lovett had slammed out of the room on his forceful orders. It was almost unnaturally quiet for the city of London, but that was a normal occurance for dusk on Fleet Street.

A sudden scream broke through the silence, followed by a dull thump, before silence fell once more. Sweeney Todd, who had heard three or four screams that day from his customers at the shop, thought nothing of it at first, thinking that he was just reminiscing over the kills he had made that day, until he realised that that wasn't possible. Because the screaming voice was female. More than that, he recognised it. Mrs. Lovett.

Leaping to his feet, the barber made for the door, throwing open the wood and glass to see...nothing. He was about to turn and return to his shop when he heard a small moan of pain coming from the bottom of the stairs. Turning back to the street, Sweeney walked right to the edge of the top stair, so as to get a full view of the street below.

There was Mrs. Lovett, lying in a crumpled heap on the concrete slabs of the street below, unmoving. Her slight moans of pain were all that indicated that the woman was still alive. Not even thinking about his actions or the reason that his landlady was lying half dead at the bottom of the stairs to _his_ shop, Sweeney tore down the stairs, wrapped one arm around Mrs. Lovett's back, the other under her knees and swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style into the bakery where he lay her on the seat of one of the partitions in the shop and called for Toby.

The young boy camed reluctantly into the room, dragging his feet behind him at the notion of being ordered around by his beloved mum's mad business partner, but sprinted to Mr. Todd's side when he saw the auburn-haired woman lain across the seat.

"Mum! Mr. Todd, what happened to her, is she alright?" he begged, sitting down beside her and shaking her lightly.

"Toby, go down through the market, find the doctor's house and get him here now. Hang on, you need a full name for the doctor's. Toby, what's your mum's first name?" asked Mr. Todd, seemingly contradicting himself with every word coming out of his mouth.

"Um, it's...actually, I don't really know."

"Well, what did you call her, before you called her 'mum'?"

"I called her Mrs. Lovett. Oh, hang on...there's a man at the market, when Mum goes to buy flour, he always says to her 'Hello, Nellie, how are you?'. So it must be Nellie. Nellie Lovett."

"Good, go, now!" ordered the barber, opening the door and all but throwing Toby out of it by the collar of his shirt, before settling onto the seat beside the unconcious woman, subconciously slipping his hand into hers, willing her to wake up and make a snide remark or a cheeky smile, anything but this. Even with a steady heartbeat beneath her chest, Mrs. Lovett had never been so dead.

A/N : So, first chapter, what do you think? Also, I know I didn't do the speech pattern for Toby or Mrs. Lovett (though she didn't speak), but I can't do it, so you'll have to imagine it being said the way they say it.


	2. Nothing to You

Chapter Two

Toby shut the door after the doctor, the worried look still present on his face, even though he wasn't allowed to be present during his mother's examination, neither was Mr. Todd, although the latter had just been informed of the baker's condition and requirements.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Toby rounded on the barber.

"What did he say?" he asked, his words coming out in a rush and jumbling up a little.

"Toby, I am not discussing your mother's condition with you." said Mr. Todd shortly.

"Exactly! _My_ mother! I've more of a right to know than you, Mr. Todd, she's nothing to you." The last four words hit him like one of his precious razorblades, piercing his heart. Since he had arrived on Fleet Street, he hadn't really noticed how much Mrs. Lovett meant to him. She reminded him of a woman he used to know. Well, a girl who lived in the workhouse when he moved to Fleet Street at the age of thirteen. He suddenly thought back to the present, took in Toby's tear-streamed face and sighed in defeat.

"Sit down, Toby." instructed the barber, pointing to the settee in the parlour that also acted as Toby's bed for the night, before taking a seat in the armchair across from it, his eye's never leaving the young boy's face.

"Your mother has got quite a few injuries, Toby, she's really hurt."

"What's wrong with her?" Toby pounced on Mr. Todd's words, leaning forward slightly with worry.

"She's got a mild concussion, a large gash on her waist and she's fractured her leg in three places. It might take a while, but she'll be fine, lad. Eventually."

"When will she wake up?"

"I'm not sure, but it should be sometime soon."

As if those words had been a trigger, a quiet moan came from the bedroom off the parlour. Both Sweeney and Toby jumped at it and made for the door, though the barber attempted to slow his pace a bit, less he look too eager to visit his landlady.

By the time Sweeney reached the open door, Toby was perched on the edge of the double bed, it's patchwork quilt risen to cover the baker herself, who was sitting up weakly in bed. The boy looked reasonably awkward as he enquired after her health. Finally, Mrs Lovett stretched out her arms to the child, who practically lept on her. He backed away with a terrifiedly guilty expression on his face as his touch caused his adoptive mother to wince and clutch at her waist.

"I'm sorry, Mum, I'm really, really sorry!" gasped Toby, tears of terror streaking his face.

"No, don't worry, darling, it's alright." she soothed, opening her arms once more to her son, who embraced her gingerly. When they broke apart, she smiled once more at the boy.

"Toby, dear, could you do me a favour? Could you check that the pies are ready for tomorrow's shop opening? I'll be right down in the morning."

"Uh, no you won't, Mrs Lovett, you aren't leaving this bed for the next fortnight at least." Sweeney Todd had spoken for the first time, actually alerting the pair for the first time that he had entered the room.

"Toby, go to bed." sighed Mrs. Lovett, ruffling Toby's hair before giving him a push on his way. He turned at the doorway and blew her a kiss before running off through the parlour, presumably to find Mrs. Lovett's hidden supply of gin. The demon barber walked over to Mrs. Lovett's side, picking up the glass of water he had left by her bedside and holding it out to her, gently clasping her fingers around the cold glass and walking towards the door before the widow could catch a glimpse of his eyes.

"Get some rest." he said, carefully toning his voice to sound more sympathetic than loving. After he exited the room, the baker mused on his reaction to her. The softness of his voice, the gentleness of his touch, the loving look in his eyes. One word came immediately to mind.

Maybe.


	3. My Ella

Chapter Three

A/N : I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but there isn't a character for Albert Lovett in the Sweeney Todd catagory. I thought it was because he wasn't in the movie, but then I realised that Vivienne, Morgana's mother in Merlin, has a character even though she wasn't in the series, so I think that Albert should have a character because there are a couple of stories about him. Can someone start a campaign please? (because I don't know how!) Anyway, rant over, on with the story...

Mrs. Lovett was lying still once more in her bed, staring at her bedroom ceiling and pondering on the behavior of her tenant. If she hadn't known better, and she prided herself on her ability to see people for what they were, she would have thought that the flash in his eyes showed a hint of, dare she say it, _love!_ Convinced that she was being ridiculous, she decided that, purely because she was Mrs. Nellie Lovett and consequently the most stubborn woman on Fleet Street at least, she would get up to help her son with the bakery.

With some effort, Nellie managed to slowly swing her legs out of bed. Shuffling to the edge of the mattress, she took a deep breath and stood. She rejoiced for a mere few milliseconds before collapsing to the floor, an intense scream of pain leaving her parted lips. The pain was almost blinding, so much so that Nellie just about managed to make out running footsteps and the door crashing against the wall as it was hurriedly opened before her familiar bedroom faded to blackness once more.

Nellie awoke to a cool pressure on her forehead, a stark contrast to the warm pressure in her hand. She summoned the effort and courage to raise her eyelids and take in the figure who had helped her so. To her surprise, it wasn't a physician, or a friend, not that she had many. It wasn't even her darling lad Toby. The figure was much more surprising than that, so much so that a gasp escaped Nellie's lips, alerting the figure to her awareness of the situation. The silhouette moved to the window and the early morning glow bathed the figure in light, revealing his every worry-creased feature. Sweeney Todd.

"You know, when I tell you that you have to stay put in bed, I kind of assumed that you would _listen_! I obviously forgot how notorious you were." He frowned after the last words, shaking his head and starting to speak once more.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lovett, you must be so confused right now, I should let you rest."

"Sweeney! Why did you say that?" asked a visibly confused Nellie. "You never met me before until two and a half months back."

"You just remind me of someone I used to know, that's all."

"Who?"

"Ella. Girl from the workhouse, it's a long story and I've got to open the shop."

"It's only six, the shop doesn't open until nine. You don't have to go up for three hours, now go on. I'm listening." chipped in Nellie, obviously eager to learn more of this girl. Sweeney checked his wristwatch, sighed and sat down in the chair by the baker's bedside once more.

"When I first arrived in London, Benjamin Barker, I was fourteen years old. I didn't really have a care in the world, but I had no friends either. One day, I was taking a stroll down the poorer side of London and I bumped into a young girl, sent her flying. She was pretty, she was, but thin, pale, cold as ice. Still, she had a smile on her face and was very polite when I tried to help her pick up the bread she'd been selling. We became friends almost immediately." he suddenly stopped, appearing to be attempting to prevent the tears gathering in his eyes from spilling over to his pale cheeks. Still, Nellie felt an urge to know.

"What happened to her?" asked the baker gently.

"Her mother died. She tried to keep afloat, attempting to bake the bread herself and selling it on the streets, day in, day out, but she couldn't cope. She tried, but she couldn't. So…" he took a great gulp of air before continuing. "So the Beadle came for her. Took her to the workhouse. I tried to stop him, to get her out of his grasp, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough, and he took her anyway. I never saw Ella again. I still don't know what happened to her."

"Don't you?" asked the woman, clearly confused, but with a look in her eyes that Sweeney had never seen in her before, yet still recognised from somewhere.

"I suppose she must have stayed in the workhouse. I'd try to find her, but I can't leave the shop, in case the Judge decides to come snooping." sighed Sweeney, looking towards the window, a slight murderous glint in his eye, though barely noticeable through the blur of unshed tears. Noticing this, Nellie made a decision that she knew she may live to regret.

"I could ask Toby to go find out for you, if you'd like." suggested the baker, staring into Sweeney's eyes, where the tears were decreasing rapidly at the shock and happiness he felt at her suggestion. Nellie could tell that this was the first happiness he had found since he had returned to Fleet Street.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lovett, but there is no need for that. Ella Whitefield is long since gone." With these final words, Sweeney could take it no longer and bolted from the room before his landlady could see the tears escaping from his eyes. After her tenant's hasty departure, Mrs. Lovett turned carefully to her right side, being wary of her still bandaged waist, her pillow growing wet with her own shed tears, sighing six words before submitting to the clutches of sleep;

"If you only knew, Mr. Todd."

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review.


	4. Memory Lane

Chapter Four

A/N: Thank you to a guest, Elekat, RubyRosette5 and Bellatrix Nellie Le-Lovett for reviewing. It means a lot to me.

_Young Benjamin Barker was sitting at the dining room table of his small townhouse in the east of London, planning what his present to his best friend, Ella Whitefield, would be that coming Christmas, a mere fortnight away. He immediately hid the piece of parchment he'd been jotting on as his mother, Mrs. Edwina Barker, entered the room._

"_Benjamin, are you listening to me?" were the first words that Benjamin concentrated on, which judging by the carriage clock on the mantel was some ten minutes after she began speaking._

"_Pardon, mother?" seemed the only reasonable response, as young Ben knew that had he simply replied 'what?', he would've been clipped around the head for cheeking his mother._

"_Oh, honestly, Benjamin, you're away with the fairies half the time these days. Lord only knows what your father would say."_

_"I know what he'd say, Mum, because I asked him three days ago, before he went to the tailor's. He said girls don't want things like flowers or chocolates. He said they're all very well and good, but girls want something what'll last, jewellery and the like."_

_"Well, if you ask your father politely, Benjamin, he may have a little something for you in the top drawer of his desk."_

_Benjamin's ears snapped up at these words, his excitement growing inch for inch with his beaming smile. He lept from his seat, the parchment falling from it's hiding place at his knees right down to his mother's feet, who smiled at her son and nodded encouragingly towards his father's maple study door. Once he reached it, he burst through, not even pausing to knock as he knew that his father, Mr. Richard Barker, would be at least another hour before he returned from his shift for Mr. Roberts, the local tailor. With his new promotion, Mr. Barker did most of the sewing, earning him a wage of thirty-seven pounds a year, not to mention almost half a crown's tips every week, the only down side being that he worked a full sixteen hours a day._

_Benjamin searched wildly around the room that he never entered for the desk, leaping for it and opening the top drawer, removing a small wooden box from it._

_"A box?" asked a confused Benjamin, looking to his mother for guidance._

_"Look inside." smiled Mrs. Barker, inclining her head to the package. Benjamin obliged, slowly lifting the lid of the box and staring at it's contents in awe. Even the highly polished box engraved 'My Ella Rose' was no preparation for the splendour of the present itself. Inside the box was a necklace, a sparkling silver heart set with crystals, all surrounding an outstanding swirl of a letter 'E'._

_"Mum, it's so beautiful!" exclaimed Benjamin, running to his mother and wrapping his arms around her, a rather unconventional thing to do for people of his standing. They broke apart when the frront door banged shut and Mr. Barker sprinted into the room._

_"Eddi!" he cried, catching sight of his wife and son._

_"Richard, what's happened?" gasped Mrs. Barker, her eyes taking in every inch of her husband's flustered expression._

_"It's the Beadle! He's down Fleet Street, looking for a kid. Apparently, she's an orphan, poor mite, and she's been trying to support herself for months since her mother went. Well, someone went to the Beadle and snitched on her. No-one knows who it was, but that Turpin lad were looking awful shifty."_

_"Fleet Street, Dad?" asked Benjamin, a look of worry on his face._

_"Yeah, number twelve or thereabouts...Son!" Mr. Barker trailed off as his son's face turned as white as the water lilies on the pond and he bolted for the front door._

_Benjamin continued down the twisting avenues of London until he finally reached Fleet Street, where the crowds were around the commotion that he had to use his shoulder to push through. Once he broke free of the mass of busybodies, the cause of the commotion came into plain view. The sight cut young Benjamin's heart like a polished razorblade._

_At least five members of the London police force were at house number twelve, four of them pushing the crowds back and one with a small brunette girl thrown kicking and screaming over his left shoulder._

_"Ella!" screamed Ben, pushing against the policemen and trying to get to the girl, who had caught his eye and was now screaming for him._

_"Ben! Ben, help me, please help me!" screamed Ella, struggling harder once more against the strong arms of the policeman, who's long strides were taking them closer and closer to the police carriage with each step._

_"Ella, catch this!" screamed Ben and took the necklace, that he was still holding, out of it's case, throwing through the air and watching as it landed unnoticed in Ella's hand. She clasped it around her neck quickly, then turned to him as she was thrust into the carriage._

_"Ben, please don't forget me! Remember me!"_

_And then she was gone, Ben being held back by the policemen as Ella's screams echoed down the street, her tear-stained face pressing against the glass of the carriage's back window._

Another scream echoed through the pavements of Fleet Street, though this time it was not that of a young girl, but of the demon barber.

Sweeney Todd sat up in bed, sweating and panting. He hadn't had that nightmare since a few days after it had happened, some twenty years ago. He couldn't understand what had triggered it to occur at that moment. The world was slowly coming back to reality for him and he noticed that the terrified screaming of a female voice was not only ringing through his nightmares, but through his hearing as well.

He slowly rose from his bed and made for the door, turning his head from left to right until he realised that the screams were coming from inside the baker's emporium, which upon entering, he realised that they were coming from the bedroom off the parlour. He paused for a moment, considering the impropriety of the situation. Here he was, a half dressed married man about to walk straight into the bedroom of an undressed married woman with no warning whatsoever. Then again, Mrs. Lovett was a widower and so was he, he supposed. The barber dismissed his thoughts as nerves and pushed his way into the room, his heart snapping once more at the sight of the screaming baker, thrashing around the bed in her sleep and screaming various words so loudly that they were inaudible.

Barely even thinking about it, the barber ran over to her side and wrapped his arms around her, in what he thought to be a futile attempt to calm her. However, as soon as he started stroking her back, her screams subsided and her breathing evened out. Sweeney began to pull away, but found that a lock of his unruly hair had become tangled with something. He reached down and untangled it, but the chain that it had been caught on caught his attention just as easily. He looked down to the pendant and his eyes widened at what he saw. It was a slightly dimmed heart set with crystals.

Surrounding a swirling letter 'E'.

A/N: Please review!


	5. Sweeney and Nell

Chapter Five

A/N: So so sorry! Thanks to my reviewers, RubyRosette5, Noodlemantra, Mrs. Sweenett, SweeneyToddRules, Dark Elizabeth Nellie Lovett, the pumpkin king, SecretSparrowTodd, Carla and Violet. You make me happy.

"My God!"

The barber's head was spinning at such a pace that the room was blurring around him. All this time, he'd been trying to find his Ella and all the while she'd been just a flight of stairs away.

'_Of course!_' thought the barber. Now it all made sense. Why she'd been so kind to him, helped him, even ground up his victims for him and cooked them into her meat pies! She had been his best friend all along. He then realised that she had already told him.

_I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd,  
If you only knew, Mr. Todd,  
Ooh, Mr. Todd, you're warm in my hand._

_You've come home,  
Always had a fondness for you._

The baker's words echoed through his ears, almost as if they were mocking him for being so stupid. He felt such a fool! Any man could have noticed, but he had started far away and dismissed what was right in front of his eyes. He made to leave quietly from the room to contemplate further, but tripped over the edge of a large throw and brought the contents of the chair it was laying on crashing to the floor, waking the baker abruptly from her sleep.

"Mr. T!" she cried, pulling the covers further up around her in an attempt to retain her modesty and composure. Neither worked, as Sweeney came tearing back across the room towards her. '_Oh no!_' her mind screamed. '_He's going to kill me!_' But she was surprised when he took a seat in the chair beside her bed, took her hand in his and met her gaze confidently.

"Hello, Ella." he stated simply, a slight smile creeping onto his face. Nellie let out a gasp, the hand not clasped by Sweeney flying to her mouth.

"How did you find out? How...?"

"The necklace." he answered, his hand instinctively going to the silver hanging around her pale neck.

"Of course the necklace." she sighed, her head drifting backwards to rest on the headboard, her eyes closing in anguish. Suddenly, they snapped open again, as if she was terrified to let the barber out of her sight. Suddenly, she sighed, her eyes filling with tears.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" she whispered, tears streaking down her pale cheeks. Sweeney was about to reply that she was a liar, that of course he would. They all deserved to die, after all. But then another thought struck him. Did she?

"No." The answer shocked him as he spoke it, but barely even a small percentage of the shock the baker wore on her face.

"Why not?" she asked, plainly confused by the barber's sudden mercy.

"Because you are my Ella. I would never harm you. I am so sorry that I wasn't there for you, El. I tried to help you, but I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Sweeney, I accept that. I can't say that I quite understand, but I do accept it. Thank you."

"That's alright, Nell. I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?"

"Um, Sweeney?" asked the woman, looking towards her old friend with slowly tearing eyes.

"Yes, Nellie?" he replied.

"Will you stay here with me tonight? It'll be worse if I'm alone." she confessed, her cheeks colouring slightly at the shame of asking a grown man to stay by her side so that her nightmares would not occur. Nevertheless, he pulled back the covers of the bed and slipped under them alongside his old friend. Subconciously, he wrapped his arms around the shaking woman and brought her head down to his chest. She smiled a little and soon she was peacefully fast asleep. Sweeney smiled as he watched the woman he had come to know so well sleep so peacefully. It was strangely conforting to him, he noticed, watching her sleep.

Maybe Benjamin wasn't so long gone after all.

A/N: I am so sorry that I've taken so long, I've had loads of homework and a couple of controlled assessments, so I've been snowed under really. Please review, you're all brilliant.


	6. Realisations

Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks to my brilliant reviewers, BellatrixLestrangeBC, RubyRosette5, Redejeka, Noodlemantra, AppropriateAsAlways, cookies (x5!) and hervissa.

Sweeney awoke in the early morning, wondering where he was. It took him a few moments to recognise Mrs. Lovett's bedroom, which led his eyes to darken a little with impending anger, anger that ebbed away several seconds later, when he remembered who the baker in fact was. She wasn't just Nellie Lovett, not anymore. She was his little Ella Whitefield. The girl he had grown to love.

Suddenly, Sweeney stopped his thoughts. No! He could not be thinking like that. The only woman he loved was Lucy. Yes, his Lucy, no one else at all. But the more he thought about it, the more Sweeney Todd realised that that may not anymore be true.

He turned his back on the window he had gone to face, instead laying his head back down onto the pillow, curling a lock of the baker's hair around his finger. He found the action therapeutic, though it worried him that it did so. It seemed to comfort the woman, as she moved a little closer to him, a sleep filled smile on her face, so he continued, telling himself repeatedly that that was the sole reason he did so. In truth, Sweeney didn't really know whether the woman was still sleeping or whether she was completely conscious of what she was doing. Either way, the barber did not disturb her.

It was at least another quarter of an hour before the baker began to stir, though it was still questionable whether she had truly been sleeping. She lifted up her head, rubbing a touch of sleep from her eye, before smiling once again.

"Good morning, Mr. T." she greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning, El." he responded, still twisting the lock of hair around his finger. She playfully caught his hand and pulled it away.

"What's gotten into you lately? I mean, you never used to really notice me, and now you're twisting a lock of my hair round your finger while I'm sleeping." Sweeney paused as the baker softly spoke, and so did she, knowing that her words had rung true to him.

"I don't know." he answered eventually. "I suppose… well, you're my best friend. The girl I lost all those years ago. You were one of the only things that kept me sane for those fourteen years of sweat and blood, along with Lucy, and Johanna, of course. You were one of the things that kept me living. You still are, I suppose."

Nellie was about to answer, to tell him that he was the same to her, but she was interrupted by a gigantic ruckus coming from just outside the shop downstairs, from the outdoor table area. She had begun to sit up, wincing slightly as she did so, but Sweeney firmly pushed her back down again, but with a tenderness she had never expected the man reborn could possess. The tenderness he used to have. The tenderness of her Ben.

"Let me go and deal with this." the barber told her, stroking a curl away from her face as he rose from the bed, walking through the doorway and down the stairs, making his way outside.

It turned out that the source of the ruckus was Toby, shouting and waving a white scrap of cloth at some kind of beggar woman standing by the shop. She had an air of familiarity to her, but Sweeney took no notice of this, instead going to help Toby do what he knew was on his mum's orders.

"Now, now. What's going on here?" he asked Toby, causing him to stop flapping his tea towel for a moment to answer.

"It's her. Mum doesn't like her being around the shop, says she scares away the customers, that they won't want to be around the scum of the street like her. I'm trying to get her to go away, but she won't listen. She just stands there."

"Alright, Toby. And your mother's quite right about the business, it'll go downhill with scum like her around. But you have to learn, lad, that there are better ways of getting rid of people than flapping a tea towel at them." One particular way sprang to the front of Sweeney's mind, but he managed to push it backwards. '_We can't have the boy getting suspicious, after all_.' he reasoned with himself.

He turned to the beggar woman and began to shout. "Go on, off you go. You aren't wanted around here. Go on!"

Seeing that the woman was not going to listen any time soon, Sweeney decided that more direct methods were needed. He reached forward, grabbed the woman's arm and began to pull her away from the vicinity. A few people had begun to watch by now, but soon moved on with their own lives. After all, they had all seen the woman singing and begging outside the great Judge Turpin's house, so why should this be anything new.

As he reached the corner of the next street, Sweeney released the sleeve of the woman's dress, almost causing her to topple over onto the pavement.

"If I ever see you around that bakery again, or the barber's shop, or Fleet Street for that matter, you will not make it out of there. Is that understood?" he asked, his voice a low and dangerous whisper. When he thought he saw something resembling a nod of her head, he turned and made his way back to the shop.

Once he had reached the door, Sweeney decided to turn and see whether the woman had heeded his warning. He did not know what had told him to do so, but he did. And that was when he saw something he hadn't seen before. Something he never thought that he would see again.

Through the years worth of dirt and grime that matted it, Sweeney saw something he had longed to see, and anger raced through him like pain from an open wound.

He saw a lock of yellow hair.

AN: Uh oh! Review to find out what happens next.


	7. Falling

Chapter Seven

A/N: Thank you immensely to my reviewers, BellatrixLestrangeBC, Guest, thelovelyflorencelovett and bellatrixblack12. It's your reviews that keep me writing.

Unable to comprehend what he had just seen, Sweeney shook his head violently as he staggered back into the pie shop, collapsing in one of the booths as soon as he reached it.

'_Why would she do this_?' Sweeney thought, his whole mind made heavy with the anguish he felt. '_My sweet little Ella, why would she do this to me_?'

It was just too surreal. He may not have seen her for years, but in the time that he had known her, Ella had never told a single lie. Obviously, she had changed, he had known that much as soon as he had arrived back on Fleet Street, but not once would he ever have thought she would lie about something as important as this.

And yet, she had. She had told him that his darling Lucy had swallowed poison and killed herself, he was sure that she had. And he, although mistrusting of many around these parts, had never had cause not to believe the woman. How wrong he had been.

Standing from the booth he had seated himself in, much to the annoyance of his now pounding head, Sweeney took a number of staggering steps towards the staircase behind the counter, his vision blackening with spots as he began to seethe.

By the time the man had reached Mrs. Lovett's bedroom door, he was almost panting with rage, and did not even pause to knock on the wood, bursting through it so fast that the handle cracked against the poorly plastered wall, leaving a dark imprint in the dirtied white.

Inside the room, Nellie near jumped out of her skin as the man stormed into her bedroom, a very familiar look of rage marring his feature. '_Oh no!_' the baker thought, taking a huge gulp of air. '_What could have happened to make him this angry_?'

"Mr. T?" the woman dared to say, though her heartbeat was pounding against her chest like a war drum.

"Don't." came the snarled reply, as Sweeney turned to glare right through the woman's very heart, which she could feel was breaking under her skin with every second.

"What have I done?" she asked, her voice barely audible to the raging madman, though he still paused to hear it. "Mr. T, please just tell me… what have I done to make you so angry with me?"

"Do you really not know?" he asked her in response, his voice suddenly changing, to become terrifyingly calm.

"No." she answered honestly, now speaking so quietly that the words were barely audible at all.

"You know, I would have thought better of you, _Eleanor_…" Just the mention of her full name was as stinging to the baker as any wasps could possibly be, if not a great deal more painful. Sweeney had never spoken her full name, and Nellie was certain that he would not have done so, had he not been so annoyed about something which she still couldn't put her finger on. "But it seems that I was wrong."

"Sweeney, please… just tell me what I've done." the woman begged, tears seeping from beneath her eyelids.

"Why don't you try and guess?" Sweeney returned, his voice terrifyingly monotonous for the state of anger he was in.

"Mr. T, I've told you. I don't know!" the woman returned, looking almost deranged, with her hair standing up on end and her face red and tear stricken.

"You lied to me." With four simple words, the whole world came crashing down about Mrs. Lovett's ears. The tears ceased their falling, her mouth open in shock as she met the man's furious gaze.

"I… Mr. T, I'm… I only did it for you, I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted for you to move on from her, she was gone. I just… I wanted you to have the chance to live your life." she attempted to explain, rambling a little in her effort to make him understand.

"She was my life!" the man roared, causing Nellie to let out a tiny whimper as she flinched. "She, and Johanna. They were my life, and they could have been mine again, and you lied!"

"I didn't lie. She did poison herself, and I did try to help her, but I never actually said she had died." Now was perhaps not the time to be clever about what she had done, but she needed to explain properly, and that was the only way she could think of doing it.

"No, you never told me, you just let me believe that my Lucy was dead!" the man responded, venom pouring from his mouth in every word.

"She is! Your Lucy died as soon as she took that poison. She's not your wife, Mr. T, because after ten teaspoons of that stuff, she'll hardly remember her own name, let alone remember you. I thought you were better off thinking she was dead, rather than you feeling the pain knowing that would cause you. I was trying to protect you!" she told him, still desperate to make her point understood, but knowing that that chance was slipping further away with each word he spoke.

"I don't need your protection, Eleanor Lovett." The woman winced once again at her name being used. "I do not need anyone. I am a grown man, I have my own methods for revenge and I do not need the help of an abandoned orphan girl who thinks she has my best interests at heart!" And with that statement, Sweeney swept out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

Forgetting everything else in her desperation, Nellie pulled the covers off of herself, swinging her legs sideways and physically jumping from the bed. Instantly, she screamed out in agony from the pressure she had placed on her injured leg, but still continued for a couple more steps, before she collapsed down to the floor, no longer moving at all as her eyes fell closed.

Silence fell on the room, and nothing intercepted that silence.

Not even a heartbeat.

A/N: Aaaaargh! Please review, so she can be saved (or can she?) If I don't get enough reviews, she shall die!


	8. Repercussions

Chapter Eight

A/N: Thank you, BellatrixBlack12, MissCSommers and thelovelyflorencelovett for reviewing the last chapter.

Down by the river, as the sun sank low in the sky, Sweeney Todd sat on the ground, contemplating the past day in an uncharacteristically calm manner.

It had been such a terrible day, one of the worst in all of his memories. He had discovered his wife, living in agony, and that his best friend was responsible for his believing she had died. It was still a mystery to him how his Ella could have betrayed him so, when she had seemed such an honest, trustworthy child to him. Years of living in crime riddled London must have led her drastically astray.

But somewhere, a tiny voice in the back of his mind asked him a simple question; was she right to do so?

His first thought was no. After all, the woman was his wife, and he deserved to know if his own wife was still living. She had been his world, and he had needed to know what had truly happened to her, if only to survive the next day at all.

But there was another thought niggling at the back of the barber's mind, contradicting his first of them entirely. '_She had only done it for him_.'

That was what the baker had pleaded, at least, but there was something in his heart that told him she was being truthful, even if she had not been so in the most important point of all.

Then, from somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a scream echoed, jerking the barber to his senses. There was no one in the place's radius at all. He was alone. So where had it come from?

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. He had heard that scream before. It was that of Mrs. Lovett.

"It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me. A guilty conscience for shouting at her, perhaps." the man reasoned with himself. "It is nothing of consequence."

Still, the nagging feeling, the one which Sweeney had defined as misplaced guilt, would not leave the man alone, and the barber now knew that he could not just ignore it.

"Perhaps I should go back, just to see what damage I've done." he spoke quietly, thinking that doing such would do no harm. "I will not apologise, of course. This was entirely her fault. But still, for old times' sake…"

And so it was decided. After a few moments to contemplate, staring at the blazing light of the horizon, Sweeney rose from his seat on the ground, deciding with a sigh that he would return to Fleet Street.

It took the man around thirty minutes before the dimly light Fleet Street came into sight. However, something was not right.

The first thing that the man noticed was that, though the shop itself was well lit, the light of Mrs. Lovett's bedroom was extinguished. '_Well, that is strange.'_ the man thought, his brow furrowing a little in confusion. '_She never sleeps this early in the night, unless there is something wrong.__'_

Slightly more concerned than he had been upon leaving the lake, Sweeney entered the pie emporium, albeit a little apprehensively.

The room was almost entirely empty, bar a trim sleeping figure in the corner, who, judging by the gin bottle clutched tightly under his arm, must have been Toby.

Ignoring the young boy, the barber moved on, ascending the staircase behind the counter until he reached the lengthy corridor at the top of them. Three of the quartet of doors on the landing were tightly shut, locked with a brass key that the baker kept in her pocket at all times. However, the door on the far right was ajar, precisely as it had been left. The door that led to the woman's bedroom.

As he approached the piece of wood, Sweeney considered whether or not he should not. After all, it was only propriety and, no matter how much he felt it was her that was in the wrong, she had a right to deny him entry to her bedroom. Deciding it was for the best, the dark haired man rapped his knuckles on the panelled wood, pressing his ear to it in wait for an answer. None came. '_She could at least have the decency to give an answer.'_ Sweeney thought in annoyance, allowing a seething sigh to escape his lips.

Three times Sweeney knocked the door, each time doing so with more strength and more urgency. Still, no answer came.

Throwing all notions of propriety out of the window, Sweeney pushed the door open with a great amount of force, preparing to confront the woman on the other side. However, the moment he heard the brass handle clatter against the wall, the barber directed his gaze to the floor. That was when he saw why no answer was given.

There, he saw through the darkness, lying silent and still amidst the dust of the floorboards, was Mrs. Lovett, twisted as if she had fallen down. '_She was trying to follow me.'_ Sweeney thought in anguish.

Coming to his senses, the man sprinted across to the middle of the room, bending down beside the baker and grasped for a pulse at her wrist. He may have been responsible for a fair few deaths, but that did not mean that he couldn't find a way to tell the living from the not. There was nothing.

"Ella!" the man exclaimed, his breathing coming in sharp pants as he began to panic. He shook her by the shoulders, forgetting for a moment about the other injuries she had sustained recently, as he desperately attempted to make the woman breathe again. "Ella, please wake up! Please!"

Still, nothing happened. Nellie's eyes did not open, her chest did not rise, her heart did not begin to beat again. She was dead.

There was only one other thing Sweeney could think of doing that may wake the woman. And so, with a sigh laced with hope and with the preparation for disappointment, Sweeney leant down one more time.

And pressed his lips to hers.

A/N: Wow! Sweenett begins! Please review!


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